


Seems Somebody Burned out the Signs

by blueabsinthe



Series: Fumbling Towards Ecstasy [2]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, First Time, Implied Cheating, Infidelity, M/M, Ottawa Senators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-10
Updated: 2013-06-10
Packaged: 2017-12-14 12:56:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/837129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueabsinthe/pseuds/blueabsinthe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>À coeur vaillant rien d'impossible ...</i> Nothing is impossible for a willing heart ...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seems Somebody Burned out the Signs

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place shortly before Game two of the Eastern Conference Semifinals. 
> 
> The title comes from the song _Drive my Soul_ , by Lights.

_I fucked up._

Cory stares at the line of text, fingers hovering over the keyboard of his phone, debating whether to hit the 'send' button, before he sighs and deletes the words. He had spent the morning, and all of practice thinking about Dustin. He thought a shower after getting back to the hotel would help clear his thoughts. Except, for the part where it hadn't. Following his shower, he sat on his hotel room bed, while his thoughts continued to be a jumbled mess. 

The three words were like a cool, impersonal reminder that he had in fact, 'fucked up'. He was quite sure what he did made him the absolute worst boyfriend ever. The three words wrecked havoc with a lot more of Cory's already mixed up thoughts than he wanted to admit. Ever since last night after leaving Jean-Gabriel's hotel room, Cory's concentration was all but shot to hell.

When they left Jean-Gabriel's room for dinner, Cory's head was spinning. If he had to be honest, most of his attention seemed to go more towards not thinking about what had just happened. Not focusing on it seemed to be the best solution, or so he tried to convince himself. 

He and Jean-Gabriel both ended up being absorbed into the small group of their teammates when they made it to the lobby. Mika was enthusiastic and chatting a mile a minute. Cory did his best to focus, even though his mind was buzzing with his thoughts. 

Memories of Dustin's voice, his smile, the way he would run his hand through his hair, the smell of his cologne, and the way he would look at Cory like he was the one singular most important person he could see for miles around, haunted him all through dinner. 

Dinner passes by in a blur. Cory is so caught up in his thoughts, he barely registers when Jean-Gabriel places a hand on his shoulder, a slightly crooked smile on his lips. 

"Time to take off," he says.

"Oh," Cory starts, "didn't realize …" his voice trails off as he hears Jean-Gabriel laugh at something their other companions have said.

Jean-Gabriel's laugh reminds him of Dustin's. It sounds golden, laced with buttermilk and velvet. He grips the table for balance as he gets to his feet. He didn't … _couldn't_ think about Dustin right now. Thinking about him would just … well, it would make everything that had happened a few hours ago with Jean-Gabriel _real_. Which, Cory realized was a completely asinine response.

After all, what kind of a shitty boyfriend was he for kissing someone else? Not to mention fooling around with someone while being pretty much fully clothed? All because he was lonely and hurt Dustin couldn't seem to find the time to see him? Was their relationship really so fragile he had sought out comfort in the arms of a teammate, and someone he considered a pretty good friend? 

Jean-Gabriel eyes him speculatively. "You okay?"

Cory forces a smile to his lips. "Yeah, just … tired, y'know?"

They part after exiting the elevator. Cory thinks he sees a flicker of unspoken words that die on Jean-Gabriel's lips, but he says nothing.

And then, it's too late. The moment passes. 

He really tried to focus during morning skate, but his luck seemed to have run its course. Cory knew something was off the minute he set foot on the ice for practice. When he fumbled on an easy passing play, he was about ready to call it quits.

"No worries," Greening said, tapping his stick against Cory's legs as he skated by. "Happens to the best of us."

Cory offered him a small smile, but as he turned his attention back to the drill at hand, his eyes caught on Jean-Gabriel's. 

Jean-Gabriel's dark, expressive eyes fixed on Cory. They were searing in their intensity, and made Cory feel more exposed than he ever thought possible. He couldn't help but feel like he was trapped in a glass house in that instant. He felt fragile, thin, and translucent. His every movement on display. 

As practice wound down, Cory wanted to get off the ice as fast as humanly possible. He avoided his teammates stares and did his best to tune out their voices as he rummaged through his bag. His hands located his phone, and he pulled it out, his fingers going automatically to the text message icon. 

Sure enough, Dustin's short text of I'm sorry, was still there. The simple words felt like ghostly fingers curled around Cory's heart. He bit his bottom lip, and he typed out _I fucked up_. Cory stood and stared at the three words he had just typed, his thumb hovering over the 'send' button, before he thought better of sending the text and slipped his phone back into his bag. As he looked up, he saw Jean-Gabriel looking at him again, his dark eyes stripping away every layer Cory had. And, he felt a twinge in his chest, reminding him of the unanswered text. The thought of Dustin seemed to squeeze his heart like a vise. A constant reminder of his betrayal. 

What Jean-Gabriel and him had done yesterday was something he had never done with anyone else but Dustin. Not to mention, another guy. It was a particularly disconcerting thought, and it made Cory's cheeks redder than they probably already were. 

Cory found he was having a hard time breathing the longer he stood there. He had to get out of here. Away from the non-assuming, yet prying stare of Jean-Gabriel. Away from the noise of his teammates. 

Before he could change his mind, he tore his eyes from Jean-Gabriel's, gathered up his belongings and hurried towards the locker room doors. He could shower back at the hotel.

-»«-

Cory was thankful Mika had opted to hang out with Jakob, so he took longer than he normally would in the shower. One of his hands is on the wall of the shower to steady himself as memories of Dustin creep up like a fog.

He almost feels like Dustin is standing behind him in the shower, his wet palms running over his skin, his mouth zeroing in on the sensitive spot on Cory's neck. The spot that always made Cory a whimpering mess in Dustin's arms. Cory's legs shake at the memory. He has his eyes screwed shut as an image of Jean-Gabriel enters his mind. Jean-Gabriel's dark eyes looking up at him as he moved his hands over Cory. 

The water runs cold by the time Cory steps from the shower. He swipes his hand across the fogged up mirror, and gazes at his reflection. His reflection wasn't as miserable as it was this morning when he first woke up. Now, it was mostly clouded with uncertainty, which Cory figured he could deal with eventually. 

He towels off quickly, and pulls on a pair of jeans and t-shirt. Cory eyes his phone, which is laying silently on the nightstand. 

_I'm sorry_.

The text still unanswered, and yet, the words still haunt him. Cory picks up his phone, doing his best to stop his hands from shaking as he unlocks the device, and stares at Dustin's text. He still hears the last words he said to him before hanging up yesterday.

" _No, I get it. I guess I just figured I was important enough to warrant some schedule rearranging_."

Cory was quite sure Dustin started to say something in reply, but he had already hung up before he could decipher what it was. 

He stares at Dustin's text, and the words _I fucked up_ stare back at him for what seemed like the umpteenth time. Cory wishes things were different. He thinks about how everything would be different if Dustin had never been traded to the Bulldogs. Cory also wonders how different everything would be if he hadn't been traded to Ottawa. There were so many 'what if' types of situations he could come up with. They all do nothing to stop the wave of loneliness that hits him. 

Cory almost doesn't hear the knock at his door, lost as he was in his own misery. He runs a hand through his damp hair, before he walks the short distance to the door, and opens it. He is unprepared for the speculative gaze of Jean-Gabriel. 

He is dressed in a simple button down shirt and slacks, and he leans against the door frame, his lips set in a thin line. "I know you're not okay."

Cory holds the door open, as he sighs and motions for Jean-Gabriel to enter. He keeps his eyes trained on the floor, anything to avoid looking at Jean-Gabriel. He was quite sure if he did look at him, it would lead him to do something he would surely regret. Something he had been trying to avoid thinking about for hours now. Cory forced himself to push the memory of last night out of his mind. If he forced himself not to think about it, it was easier to pretend last night was not real. He wanted to pretend it had all been one big emotional mistake. A momentary lapse in judgement. So, why was he having such a difficult time forgetting what it felt like to have Jean-Gabriel's hands on his skin? 

"What makes you think I'm not?" Cory says quietly, his eyes following Jean-Gabriel's feet as he makes his way to the bed. 

Jean-Gabriel shrugs, and rubs a hand across his mouth as he mulls over his words in his mind. "Because I'm not okay, either."

Cory's eyes snap up then, and lock on Jean-Gabriel's. His eyes are beautiful and vulnerable. He resists the urge to reach out, and run his fingers through his dark hair. Cory wants to run his lips over the smooth expanse of his neck, and hear the little hitch of Jean-Gabriel's breath, as his fingers would twist in his hair. 

"I … what could you possibly not be okay with?" Cory blurts out.

He watches as Jean-Gabriel laughs quietly, hands shoved into the pockets of his pants. Jean-Gabriel has his head bowed, and he kicks at his left foot with his right. There is a nervous tension bleeding through his limbs. Cory can feel it radiating from him in waves, and he shifts his stance anxiously.

"I can't help but feel like this is all my fault," Jean-Gabriel finally says, his eyes boring holes into the carpet. "If I hadn't … if I hadn't kissed you, well …" his voice trails off and he shrugs his shoulders as if that was explanation enough. 

The air around them was charged, it made Cory's chest ache. His thoughts were spinning again. God, what the fuck was wrong with him? Since when did he let his heart lead, and not his head? 

Eventually, Jean-Gabriel looks up, and offers Cory a slightly crooked smile. "It's just that … well, you looked so sad, so lonely, and, I just … I thought I could help, but, instead, I just complicated everything." He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. " _Je suis désolé_. I'm sorry," he finishes quietly. 

"J …" Cory starts, " _this_ ," he waves at the space between them, "isn't your fault. You don't have to be sorry for anything." He runs a hand nervously through his hair. "I just … I just thought it'd be easier to pretend it wasn't real, so I wouldn't have to think about how badly I've fucked up."

"How's that working out for you?"

Cory has to laugh then, and he shakes his head. "Every time I try not to think about it, I end up thinking about it more. Then I wish none of it was real, despite knowing it is. And, fuck, why is this so difficult?"

Jean-Gabriel eyes Cory silently, hesitation stopping the words from leaving his mouth. After what seems like an eternity, he clears his throat, finally finding the words. "Maybe it's easier to pretend it's not real. Maybe you don't want it to be real. Yet."

Cory chews at the inside of his cheek, the air between them crackling with electricity, as he digests Jean-Gabriel's words. "What," he starts, as he tries to disguise the way his voice cracks on the word, "what do you mean by that?"

Jean-Gabriel tries to give what he hopes passes for a noncommittal shrug, despite knowing it is not. " _Le coeur a ses raisons_." 

Cory looks at him, eyes unblinking, his heart hammering violently in his chest. He feels like all the oxygen in the air around them is gone. It makes him dizzy. Jean-Gabriel looks slightly uneasy as he finally translates. 

"The heart has its reasons."

Jean-Gabriel barely gets the last word of his translation out, before Cory is across the space separating them, his hand covering the back of Jean-Gabriel's head, his mouth capturing his in a fierce kiss. The stubble on his chin rubs against Jean-Gabriel's, as he lets his tongue slip into the wet heat of Jean-Gabriel's mouth. 

Cory hears Jean-Gabriel shiver, his hands scrambling along Cory's chest, until they come to rest on his shoulders. He kicks his shoes off, and digs his fingers into Cory's shoulders as they fall onto the bed. Cory manages to slide a thigh between Jean-Gabriel's legs, widening the cradle of his legs, and effectively pinning him to the bed. 

"Cory," Jean-Gabriel manages to get out, as their mouths break apart for air. His breath comes in short, desperate pants as Cory slides his lips down the smooth, pale skin of his neck. "Cory, this is - are you sure -" 

"Shh," Cory says, tone reassuring. "You don't need to say anything else." 

Jean-Gabriel's heart is racing, the sound is deafening. He swallows thickly, trying to come up with words, but they all die on the tip of his tongue. Cory's teeth graze his neck, his tongue dipping into the hollow at the base of his throat. He arches his head back, a low moan escaping his slightly parted lips. 

Cory slides a hand down Jean-Gabriel's side, before curling it around his hip. He nipped lightly at the sensitive spot where neck meets shoulder, and Cory presses down on Jean-Gabriel's hip as he starts to arch into Cory's touch. "Easy, J," he whispers. 

Jean-Gabriel murmurs something unintelligible, the words lost to the air as Cory slides a hand over his chest, his fingers undoing buttons as he went. He presses his palm against Jean-Gabriel's chest, feeling his heart as it beat a steady rhythm against his palm. Cory's slightly calloused fingers ran across Jean-Gabriel's chest, brushed across his nipples, and Cory feels his dick twitch in his jeans as he hears Jean-Gabriel let out a little sob, his hands balling into fists against the sheets. 

"Cory," Jean-Gabriel chokes out, " _s'il te plait_." 

"Shh," Cory whispers, his mouth hovering over Jean-Gabriel's, as his hand skims down his abdomen, his fingers fiddling with the belt on Jean-Gabriel's pants. He hesitates for a moment or so, eyes assessing as his eyes meet Jean-Gabriel's across the space. Blue juxtaposed with brown. 

Jean-Gabriel's expression was vulnerable, and spoke volumes. He was still under Cory's hand, seemingly content to let Cory set the pace. 

"I … I want to see you," Cory murmurs finally. His eyes run over Jean-Gabriel's exposed skin, before he looks up into his eyes, seeking some form of validation before he went any further. 

Jean-Gabriel nods. " _J'ai confiance en toi_. I trust you." 

Cory slides the zipper down, undoes Jean-Gabriel's belt, and unbuttons the button on Jean-Gabriel's pants. He keeps his breathing steady in an effort to disguise his shaking hands, and bites at his bottom lip as he finally tugs Jean-Gabriel's pants and boxer briefs down. Cory lets the tips of his fingers slide up Jean-Gabriel's thigh, and feels a shiver run down his spine as Jean-Gabriel digs his fingers into his clothed shoulder. Jean-Gabriel gets a leg curled around Cory's hip, drawing him closer as a groan escapes his lips. 

Cory shifts slightly in an effort to better align their bodies, and he sucks his breath in sharply as he feels his cock strain against the front of his jeans. He looks down into the dark pools of Jean-Gabriel's eyes, brushing a few stray strands of hair from his face. "J … I'm … I mean … is it all right if I …?"

Jean-Gabriel's lips catch on Cory's chin. "Do what you have to."

Unspoken: _It's not too late for you to walk away from all this_. 

That gave Cory a bit of pause, and he bit at his bottom lip as he waited for his thoughts to stop spinning. Jean-Gabriel slid his palm to cover Cory's heart, his touch warm, nearly burning through the thin cotton of Cory's shirt.

" _Le cœur a ses raisons ... que la raison ne connaît pas_ ," he whispers.

Cory curls his fingers around Jean-Gabriel's wrist, and slides it from his torso, before he sits back on his heels. With shaking hands he tugs his shirt up and over his head, and fumbles with the button on his jeans. His hands are shaking so badly, he can't seem to get the button undone. Cory curses, and lets his hands fall to the sides as he lets out an exasperated sigh. 

Jean-Gabriel had pulled himself up into a sitting position, his hands reaching out, before they unbuttoned Cory's jeans. As he slid them past Cory's hips, he presses his lips against the corner of Cory's mouth. "Cory …" he whispers. His voice is thick and seems to be coming from all directions.

Cory bites his bottom lip as Jean-Gabriel carefully eases his boxers over his erection, before he feels his fingers slide across his abdomen. He shivers under Jean-Gabriel's touch.

"Sorry," Jean-Gabriel murmurs, his fingers falling away from Cory's abdomen.

"S'okay," Cory says, "I'm just sensitive." 

Jean-Gabriel's eyes trail over Cory's torso, before he traces the outline of the scar marring Cory's pale skin. "Does it ever still hurt?"

Cory laughs softly, his fingers running through Jean-Gabriel's slightly curly hair. "Nah," he says, "it's just a part of who I am."

Jean-Gabriel presses a kiss against Cory's chest, his hands sliding down until his hands are resting on his hips, tugging him closer. Cory shifts so he is straddling Jean-Gabriel at the waist, his hands tangled in his hair, as Jean-Gabriel slid his lips over Cory's jaw and down his neck, nipping at the skin. 

Cory squeezes his eyes shut, stars exploding behind his closed eyelids as Jean-Gabriel's lips find the sensitive spot on his neck, and he whimpers, squirming wordlessly in Jean-Gabriel's lap. He digs his nails into Jean-Gabriel's back, tugs him closer, craving the skin-to-skin contact. He lets out little gasps as his chest slides against Jean-Gabriel's. Their cocks slid against the other, and Cory feels his fingers tighten their grip in Jean-Gabriel's hair.

"Fuck," Cory breathes against Jean-Gabriel's ear, and he hears Jean-Gabriel laugh nervously. 

Cory nearly bites his bottom lip in two as he feels Jean-Gabriel's tongue lick across his nipple, before his teeth nip lightly at the hard tip. "J …"

Before Jean-Gabriel could react, Cory pushed him against the bed, his hands gripping his wrists, and hauling them above his head. Jean-Gabriel's eyes were flickering with amusement, and he watched as Cory straddled him, the blue of his irises a thin ring against the darkness of his pupils. 

"Lemme know if I …" Cory says, swallowing hard around the lump in his throat, as his mouth hovers over Jean-Gabriel's.

Jean-Gabriel shakes his head, and offers Cory a small smile. "I trust you." 

Cory places a chaste kiss against Jean-Gabriel's mouth, before he slides down his body, his palm laying flat against his skin. He circles his tongue around the head of Jean-Gabriel's cock, listening as Jean-Gabriel's breath catches slightly. 

When Cory sucks him into his mouth in a hot, wet drawing pull, he hears a ragged gasp spill from Jean-Gabriel's lips. He curled his fingers around the base of Jean-Gabriel's dick, holding him steady, as he slid his mouth further down. Cory relaxed his throat as he felt his lips touch his own hand, before pulling back slowly, dragging out the motion as he went. 

"Oh, _merde_ ," Jean-Gabriel manages, his fingers tugging to the point of pain on Cory's hair. 

Cory is spurred on by Jean-Gabriel's reaction, and he continues to move his mouth over his length, his eyes sliding upwards, watching as Jean-Gabriel's lips parted slightly. There is a slight sheen of perspiration covering his skin, his fingers threading through Cory's hair trembling slightly. 

Jean-Gabriel finally lets his eyes fall on Cory's, and, as Cory does something with his tongue to the underside of his cock, he comes, mouth open in a silent scream.

Cory milks him dry, until Jean-Gabriel's hands tug on his arms, pulling him up. Cory presses a kiss against Jean-Gabriel's forehead, palm resting on Jean-Gabriel's chest, listening as his breathing slowly starts to return to normal. 

Jean-Gabriel eventually reaches down, curling a hand around Cory's cock, and strokes him languidly a couple times, his eyes dark and half lidded watching Cory's expression.

"I'm going to …" he trails off, hand still curled around Cory's erection, as he tries to come up with words.

Cory's breathing grows laboured as his mind starts to conjure up images of Jean-Gabriel's lips stretched around his cock. He smiles and nods, pressing his forehead against Jean-Gabriel's. "Only if you're comfortable."

Jean-Gabriel pushed Cory so he was laying on his back, eyes staring unblinkingly at the ceiling. He felt Jean-Gabriel slide down his body, his hand lifting one of Cory's legs, so it rested on his shoulder. Before Cory could murmur any last minute instructions to him, he felt Jean-Gabriel's mouth close over his length. 

"J …" Cory moaned, "fucking hell." 

Cory managed to get his hands tangled in Jean-Gabriel's hair as lights exploded across his vision. He arches his hips up as he feels Jean-Gabriel curl his tongue around the head of his cock. "Fuck that feels good," he groans, as he guides Jean-Gabriel's head with his hands. 

Jean-Gabriel seemed content to let Cory set the rhythm, as he jerked his head up and down Cory's cock. He hears little ragged gasps as they work their way free from Cory's throat, and he keeps moving his mouth over Cory. 

"J," Cory gasps, and swears loudly as he feels Jean-Gabriel sink further down on his cock than he can ever remember Dustin doing. He digs his heels into the bed, and pushes his hips up into Jean-Gabriel's mouth as he comes. 

Jean-Gabriel's movements eventually slow, and he lets Cory pull him up, his mouth seeking out his. When they finally break apart, Jean-Gabriel swipes a hand across his mouth, and listens to Cory's uneven breathing. 

Jean-Gabriel rolls onto his back, an arm pressed against his eyes. He turns his head slightly when he feels the weight of Cory's stare on him.

"What you said to me earlier -"

" _Le coeur a ses raisons_ ," Jean-Gabriel replies, cutting off Cory's sentence. 

Cory nods, reaching a hand out to trace Jean-Gabriel's cheek. "Yes, that. But, I'm referring to the second part …"

" _Que la raison ne connaît pas_ ," Jean-Gabriel whispers. 

Cory eyes him expectantly. All the words his mind is conjuring seem to die as they reach his lips, and he wishes he could stay in this moment forever. 

Jean-Gabriel is silent as he takes in Cory's profile, a hand reaching out, so it is resting on top of Cory's. "Of which reason means nothing," he finally translates. 

"Oh," Cory breathes, and his breathing falters for a moment as his eyes lock on Jean-Gabriel. He curls his body closer to his, their foreheads touching as he curls a hand around Jean-Gabriel's hip. "I … I … I'm doing everything all wrong," he blurts out. 

Jean-Gabriel runs a hand through Cory's hair. " _À coeur vaillant rien d'impossible_ ," he breathes. "Nothing is impossible for a willing heart," he says softly, moving his lips to brush over Cory's neck. 

The words linger in the air, and Cory tries his best to suppress the weight of them as his mind conjures up images of Dustin, and of Jean-Gabriel. He still can't come up with a solution, and he half-wonders if he really wants to come up with one at all. 

Realizing they had to leave for the Consol Energy Center soon, they dress in silence, and Cory tries to focus on the game ahead.

" _Le coeur a ses raisons_ ..."

" _Que la raison ne connaît pas_ ..."

" _À coeur vaillant rien d'impossible_ …"

Cory thinks about these words as he laces up his skates, and pulls on his jersey. The words haunt him all through on-ice warmups, and at puck drop. The loss to the Penguins just adds to his misery. 

He spends the team flight back to Ottawa with his phone clutched tightly in his hand. The impersonal plastic, and Dustin's still unanswered text his only reminder of reality. 

Cory almost doesn't register when Jean-Gabriel places a hand on his shoulder, his eyes speaking volumes. 

He lets himself sink into the familiar brown of Jean-Gabriel's eyes as he unlocks the door to his apartment, and as they collapse onto Cory's bed, Cory reaches for his hand, interlacing their fingers.

Jean-Gabriel holds him through the night, lips pressed to Cory's forehead, and never lets go.


End file.
